


Holy Darkness (got a hold on me)

by Cerise_anouk



Series: The Demon Code Prevents me From Declining a Rock-off Challenge [4]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Darcy is the hide and seek grand champion, Demon Darcy is baaaaaaack, F/M, Gen, but its ok i swear, doesnt seem like such a bad idea NOW does it steve?, he dies, how low can you go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-13 23:38:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18041285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerise_anouk/pseuds/Cerise_anouk
Summary: “Steve? What happened? Who died?”Steve lets out a watery huff of a laugh, “You did, you fucking jerk.”





	Holy Darkness (got a hold on me)

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from Lord Huron's Meet Me in the Woods
> 
> of the dozen fics i have mostly written this one emerged from scratch. it only took 2 baby gates and the complete distruction of my living room.   
> im filling very meh. hopefully getting this out will shake some of the others loose.

Bucky has no idea where he’s at, but it’s dark. The sort of gloomy, muzzy twilight dark, he’d experienced in the long cold months of wet, overcast, mountainous Europe where it feels like permanent five o’clock from dawn until dusk when the dark just gets deeper until there’s nothing left but blackness.

He’s not sure how he got here, either. One minute he’s fighting the latest group of bad guys hell bent on taking over the world (get in line guys) trading, what he thinks anyways, is hilarious comedic one-liner gold with Stevie (he really needs to start writing some of them down), the next, he’s suddenly alone in  this…place, with no one to fight and no friends either.

After getting nothing but radio silence from his comm link and waiting for what felt like forever, he’d set off in no direction in particular. It was so silent he could hear his blood pulsing in his veins. The swish of his hair against his collar. The creak of his tac gear as he took even steps.

His feet make barely any noise on the pebble ground. There was no concept of time here, and he doesn’t tire. Just keeps walking and walking. The darkness wasn’t oppressive per se, more frustrating. He can’t make out shit. There are shapes that might have been trees. Or bushes. A disturbance in the air could have been a person, or an animal, but fuck if he’d know. If he could just find another person-

He freezes.

Deep in the din a pair of burning, orange eyes pin his feet to the ground.

He reaches for the weapons that aren’t there.

Oh _, fuck_ _me_. Be careful what you wish for Barnes.

**_Found you._ **

The sound of wings cutting through thick air is the last thing he hears as he squeezes his eyes shut.

* * *

 

He blinks them open and is startled to find himself face to face with Darcy, her bottomless blue-green eyes staring calmly into his. The corners crinkle as her full (sinfully full) lips curl up in a pleased smile. The sun forms a glowing halo around her whiskey tresses.

_The sun?_

“Welcome back.”

He feels his eyebrows draw together in confusion, “Darcy?” he rumbles through a slightly dry throat, “What’re you doing here?” Where was here anyways?

“Buck?”

Steve’s rough voice has him rolling his head to the side, taking in the tear tracks cutting through the dirt, sweat and blood streaking his best friend’s cheeks. He’s covered in blood from chest, to arms to thighs.  Shit. The mission must have gone fucking ass-up after he disappeared.

“Steve? What happened? Who died?”

Steve lets out a watery huff of a laugh, “ _You_ did, you fucking jerk.”

That has him jerking up into a sitting position. Or attempting to. Wincing as a sore twinge pulls at his chest he glances down and sees the holes where new gen high caliber armor piercing rounds had blasted through his vest. He can feel the sticky stretch of tacky blood across his skin where it has soaked through his clothes and matted into the back of his hair. If the bullets hadn’t blown out his heart he’d’a bled out in seconds.

No wonder Steve was painted red with it.

“I…died?”

Looking up he sees the rest of the team, in various degrees of injured, surrounding where he sat with Darcy and Steve. They all nodded solemnly.

_The dark place-_

“Then what the hell am I doing…how am I...?” Bucky flounders for the words. If he’d died then how was he alive, with no signs of trauma other than the holes in his tac gear and a fucking sore chest to show for it? How had he come back-

_Burning eyes_

_The sound of wings_

His icy blue eyes lock, searching, with Darcy’s calm ones. What was she even _doing_ out here, dressed in leggings, a loose fitting top and _sandals,_ not a spec of dirt on her, when she should be sitting in a lab in a completely different hemisphere.

“You brought me back.” It’s not really a question. He’d seen his girl do too many amazing things to not believe completely that she was responsible for this.

Darcy shrugs, totally relaxed, and tilts her head to the side, staring at him in that unblinking way that never fails to remind everyone that she wasn’t human, not even close.

“You’re mine,” she says simply, and really, it explains everything.

**_Found you_ **

Bucky thinks he sees a wisp of flame flair up around her irises.

Could be the blood loss.

Probably wasn’t.

He doesn’t care either way.

* * *

 

 

They’d gotten outta there pretty quickly after that. Steve had helped him get gingerly to his feet (fuck his chest hurt) and holding Darcy’s hand he’d made his way back to the waiting jet. He’d dozed with the rest on the way back to the upstate facility.

Being brought back from the dead takes a lot outta a guy.

Later that night he asks Steve what happened.

“I didn’t see it coming. One second you were smiling after telling me that stupid joke and the next- bullets were ripping through your chest. I’d barely gotten to you before Darcy was suddenly there,” Steve looks over at her, sitting on the couch having a deeply intellectual debate with Dr. Cho over which was better, buttered or kettle popcorn, “She just appeared outta thin air next to ya. I was too busy trying to stop…stop the bleeding,” Steve stops, looking down at the Coke can clenched tight in his fist. Trying to stop the bleeding wouldn’t have done any damn good. He’d been gone before he hit the dirt. They both knew it. It had just been a knee-jerk reaction on the Punk’s part, “I didn’t see the three coming at us until it was too late. They would’a got us, except Darcy sorta just _looked_ at them,” he tries to mimic the look, “and they dropped. Pretty sure they were dead. Didn’t really care to check. Found out later from ‘Tash that as soon as Darce came on scene they’d _all_ dropped dead. You were gone maybe fifteen minutes? Twenty tops.”

* * *

 

He worships her in bed that night. Not that he doesn’t every night he gets to spend with her, but he leaves no part of her untouched. He presses hundreds of kisses to the palm of her left hand. Uses all of him to show his deep love and appreciation of her.

After, she lays sprawled against his chest, his finger idly carding through her hair.

“When I was dead- fuck that sounds weird- the dark place…”

She props her chin up to meet his questioning gaze,”Hm?”

“Was that hell?”

She snorts out a cackle, “No- just- no. That wasn’t hell. The fact that you even have to _ask_ should have been your first clue, dude.” She shakes her head, “ _’Was that hell’_ ”, she mimics him in a deep voice, “You’re so cute sometimes. A-freaking-dorable.”

“Bucky rolls his eyes, “Well _excuse_ the hell outta me. This is the first time I’ve died. Humor me o’ great and powerful demon-goddess Darcy.”

“You went to the in-between. Like, you’d call it Limbo or something but it’s _not_ really Limbo. Limbo’s like the unclaimed baggage place. Your soul is _mine_ ,”

Bucky’s cock twitched with renewed interest at the possessiveness in her tone. It’s a total Thing for him, he’s noticed over time.

“It isn’t exactly free to roam. My name is stamped on your ass-“

“Literally,” he cuts in.

 “-so you basically went to the soul lost-and-found box.”

Bucky pictures himself sitting in a giant cardboard box next to a winter mitten, a half deflated football, a baseball cap, and a book missing half its cover.

 “If, like, the box existed on a completely different dimension where time isn’t a thing and stretched on infinitely,” Darcy shrugs, settling back down against his chest, “You can like, _really_ move when you want to, by the way. I would have found you _a lot_ faster if you’d just stayed in one place.”

Bucky smirks, huffing out a chuckle and plants a kiss to her tousled mane, “I’ll remember that next time.”


End file.
